"Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, clear as glass, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life, with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations." (Revelation 22.1-2) "All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they return again. All things are wearisome, more than one can say." (Ecclesiastes 1.7-8a) Water is ubiquitous. There is water we need to drink. Where I live, there is often water that falls from the sky, pin-pricks spiking through my clothes as I cycle and as clouds begin to let go. There is water we wash in. There is water that seeps out of the corners of our eyes when things become too sad, or too happy, or too overwhelming, or too disappointing. There is water that powers across the sea, crashing as waves against rocks, or cliffsides, or beaches. Water that wears down the land itself. There is water in streams, and lakes. There is water locked up in glaciers and ice-caps. There is water melting, tumbling, crashing. Sometimes life can be like water. Like everything is moving, cycling, yet necessary. What do you think? If all that I do goes into the world, yet the world is never full (complete, perfect, right, better), why do I bother? Ecclesiastes 1.7-8a. When all things are more wearisome than one can say, what keeps us going? Perhaps the utopian images of "something better" that we cling to, even if we are unable to say how it could become reality. And then we believe, somewhere deep inside us, that there can be life-giving water, that tears can be no more, that fruit can grow and sustain all year round, and that nations can be healed. Revelation 22.1-2. They are both here. We know the world is too broken for us to be able to fix it, but we also know that we've got to live this life as if we're trying to - or what's the point? This is metamodern. This is what a large majority of millennials and gen-z's feel. But it feels almost as if we're crashing around, tumbling and melting like ice-caps when we feel this way. We keep our heads above water, but only just. And what do we miss while we're so intent on surviving it? Sometimes, in the midst of it all, I need another lens through which to look.
There will be time again to fight the wrong things in the world. There will be time again to realise the world is beyond my power to fix. There will be time again to decide to keep trying to do good anyway.
But there needs to be time for silence, and to be still.
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Sorry for the lack of a post last week - I've been really busy finding and then starting a job after finishing my Master's at the same time of preparing for and then taking part in an art exhibition! Which is what I wanted to write about today. Last week I had my first ever art exhibition. It was in central London and I exhibited with a group of 10 other people on the theme of Utopia. We all explored the theme from a sociological standpoint and a theological standpoint, and the conversations that grew out of this were incredible. I can't wait to do it again! This was my biggest piece in the exhibition: Measuring at 1m x 1.2m, it's also by far the biggest piece I've ever made! It's called Utopia: A Necessary Impossible Possibility.
My idea here is effectively that Utopia is something at the centre - at the core - which we’re searching for and yearning for, which is beautiful but impossible to fully grasp, impossible to reach and get to and put our hands on, and a mystery. But still it directs us. Around it, all the other aspects of ourselves and our lives float and mingle: some of them beautiful, others scary, others ambiguous. But they are directed into and towards the Utopia. As a Christian, the Utopia of a perfect God, and a perfect place where that perfect God will make all bad things disappear: well, I don’t understand that fully. It is impossible to fully grasp and reach, but it shapes how all the other aspects of my life fit together, flow and mingle. In the decisions that I make, I try to make them point towards that Utopia. Even though I know that I cannot fix the world and all its problems, I try to make decisions that do good, as if I could (even whilst knowing I can’t). In that sense, I am trying to bring into view something that is beautiful to others, and good, and impossibly wonderful, and mysterious. Something Utopian. Something like God. I (kind of, not really) apologise for the terrible pun... But as you might've seen elsewhere on social media, if you follow either my art Instagram or FB page - I just finished and handed in my dissertation (above)!!! It has been a long journey, with a lot of days in it where I felt I would never make it, a lot more days where I was confident I would and I was simply lost in the joy of researching and writing! But what is it that I've been working almost non-stop on for the last 4 or 5 months?? Well, let me tell you!
My abstract reads: "This dissertation offers an alternative understanding to several of the peaceful vision passages in the Hebrew Bible. Specifically, it addresses: (1) the image of transcendence in the raising of the mountain in Micah 4:1-5 and Isaiah 2:2-5, and how this relates to (or results in) weapons being made into tools; (2) the depiction of peace and security in Isaiah 11:1-9 and 65:17-25, especially prominent in the images of predators with prey; and (3) visions of utopian joy and celebration in Isaiah 35:1-10 and 29:17-24. The works of three metamodern, contemporary artists - David Thorpe, Olafur Eliasson and Paula Doepfner - are used to produce a hermeneutical lens (using the metamodern understanding of utopia, developed by analysing the art works, as a tool with which to read these biblical texts from a particular perspective). This then develops a new interpretation in an attempt to allow the biblical texts to dialogue with a contemporary generation. Thus, a metamodern reading of these visions focuses on the ability of the depictions of a peaceful future in the Hebrew Bible to estrange readers from their present reality in order to be able to critique, through the perspective of the utopia, what in their lives it perceives as negative. Furthermore, the visions as utopias function constructively as well as critically and so they also educate readers’ desires in wanting a better alternative reality. Confronted with ambiguity, violence, hope and a sense of an ‘impossible possibility’ in the passages, metamodern readers continue seeking this better alternative reality while knowing that they will never find it. Being metamodern, these individuals oscillate between knowing utopia is not possible and knowing it is the only way forward. These visionary texts, for a metamodern audience then, lead to confusion and uncertainty, but they also provide much needed hope and an authentic promise of something more to keep striving for." I have loved looking at and reading about the contemporary art and these artists, and analysing how art can help biblical scholars to both access and share meaning in a contemporary way. This allows the Bible to continue to dialogue with contemporary generations and the structures of feeling that surround them. If you are interested in reading my dissertation then get in touch; let me know the purpose for your interest and I'll see what I can do! As always - thanks for reading, and much love! Psalm 139.5 | אָח֣וֹר וָקֶ֣דֶם צַרְתָּ֑נִי וַתָּ֖שֶׁת עָלַ֣י כַּפֶּֽכָה׃
"Behind and in front, you've enclosed me, and put your hand upon me." We can do this. We're moving forwards and I'm not afraid. Sometimes I dig my heels in, but you move me onward anyway. You lead me - you're excited and you know the way through - there's so much you want to show me. You're who I see, and want to see, but sometimes I wish you'd just tell me where we're going too. You've got my back - you're sensible, responsible, secure - it's comforting. You hem me in, I can't escape; there is no escaping life, but at least I can live it with you. I know that whatever happens you're there and your palm on me tells me that you won't abandon me. I won't be alone. I won't be lost. Always seeking you and your presence. At least not lost forever. Behind and in front. You oscillate. I oscillate. |
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AuthorI'm a recent Cambridge Theology graduate now studying for a Masters in Biblical Studies and blogging about all sorts of things! I'm interested in faith, Church, theology, social action, the great outdoors and being creative, and all of those things - along with many more - come through in my posts!
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